


Remembering Alone (It’s Harder Than You Think)

by jadencross



Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Angst and Feels, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, pre Wakko's Wish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadencross/pseuds/jadencross
Summary: It's hard to be an exiled prince, much less a hungry and starving one who had been left alone to take care of his younger siblings. It's starting to get to be too much. Luckily, the little town of Acme Falls just to happens to have a psychiatrist.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 177





	Remembering Alone (It’s Harder Than You Think)

**Author's Note:**

> Look guys!! A oneshot that's actually a oneshot!! Who knew I was capable!
> 
> Anyways, I watched the Animaniacs reboot and immediately was plunged back into my obsession from a few years ago. And since Hulu decided to make Yakko angsty, I decided to take a crack at it myself! 
> 
> (Also I wrote this as a few NaNoWriMo sprints and I have no edited it lol. I don't think I will, but I'm getting back in the habit of writing since I graduated!)
> 
> Enjoy!!

Yakko had spent his entire life trying to never be taken seriously, but that didn’t mean that he _enjoyed_ it. 

He sat on the street corner, watching in the low light as the few townspeople still around milled about in the square. He had put Dot and Wakko to bed a few hours ago. He had tried to join them, but he found himself unable to sleep, so he exited the orphanage and sat down outside to watch the stars. 

It was chilly, but not yet cold. Fall was waning, but winter had yet to set in, so Yakko’s threadbare clothes were enough to keep him warm for the time being. He hunched up in on himself, already nervous about the fact that he didn’t have much time left to find some warmer clothes for his sibs. Sure, he could use new clothes, too, but he was starting to get worried about Dot and Wakko was starting to get cold faster, too, so his clothes would come last. 

He sighed, looking back up into the stars. 

Dot had asked to hear the story again. Yakko, as always, had told her. He had told her that story as often as he could, and he held onto it like a lifeline. As he gazed into the sky, he found himself remembering things that even his siblings didn’t. Things he would be better off forgetting. 

He remembered warm beds, and warm fires, and delicious food. He remembered his mother and his father, and their smiles and laughs. He remembered learning to read and write, and he remembered his tutors teaching him different languages. 

He wasn’t sure if he could speak those languages anymore. It was already odd enough that a trio of orphans knew how to read and write, even if Yakko had spread his knowledge to those beyond their siblings, much less if they could speak more than one language. 

There was a creaking sound, and Yakko looked over towards the alley, seeing Rita and Runt digging through the trash as normal. He watched, allowing himself to be quiet for the first time that day, as they seemingly hit the jackpot, finding some leftover food that someone must have overlooked. 

Or that was expired. 

Yakko watched as they ate, before wandering off into the darkness. He set his chin on his knees, thankful that they hadn’t seemed to notice him in the faint moonlight. He wasn’t in the mood for company.

The thing about no one taking you seriously was that no one ever believed you. At least, not in the way it mattered. 

When they had been exiled, Yakko had done his best to simultaneously make his siblings forget who they were and yet also remember. He twisted real stories to make them fantastic, getting the nuns to believe his stories were just tall tales he had invented at least for the sake and sanity of his siblings, if not his own. He played upon his eccentricities, figuring that he could tell the truth if no one expected him to. 

But now, after having watched Acme Falls slowly deteriorate, and struggling to survive as the orphanage rotted to nothing around their ears, he wished that someone would believe them.

Some foolish part of him wanted to grab the nearest adult, be it Scratchansniff or Hello Nurse or Slappy, and shake them by the shirt collar. Some childish part of him believed that if they knew who the Warner’s really were, they would know what to do. Wouldn’t having three descendants of the King and Queen, three children who were rightful heirs to the throne, give them _some_ leverage when it came to overthrowing King Salazar and making Warnerstock less of the absolute _hellhole_ it had become? He was fourteen, for Christ’s sake! He was old enough to be a contender at least! Old enough to put a wrench in King Salazar’s loyalty!

Yakko shook his head. There he was getting carried away again. He pulled his arms up around his legs, giving himself a hug against the chill breeze. 

There he was, dreaming stupid and impossible things again. 

Children were no match for the forces of Salazar. Even if he had adults to help him, they would always be outmatched by the wealth and resources of the king. 

He shivered, his mind flashing back to that day of fire and smoke, of blood and ash, of the day he had been told to take his siblings and run. He remembered the cruel face of Salazar. He remembered the stench of bodies as the guards had loaded them into the carriage. He remembered the bitter cold as they were dumped off in the snow on the edge of the kingdom. He remembered how numb his face was, and how hard it was to move his fingers when he saw the first house in sight. He remembers how scared he was that Dot had fallen asleep as they walked, and how relieved he was that he didn’t have to carry her anymore or drag Wakko behind him as the kind old lady had offered to give them a ride to the local orphanage. 

He had vowed then that he would keep his siblings safe, and as far away from King Salazar as possible. And, oh, how he had failed that. 

The bloated tick that was Salazar had sucked the life out of the town. Even though Yakko had been harboring plans to flee into the local country of France for about a year now, the horrific conditions and lack of ability to store up food made him hesitant to try. 

Plus, there was no guarantee that France would be any better. 

Yakko turned his eyes back to the sky, looking at the constellations that his mother had taught him about when he was as old as Dot was now, years ago. He had this weird feeling, one where he felt simultaneously like he wanted and needed to cry but he felt so numb inside that he knew he would never manage. 

He sat like that for a while, letting his brain completely short out as he stared at the sky. He didn’t notice the movement of the moon, or how the shadows shifted. In fact, had had no idea time had been passing at all until he heard the sound of someone plopping down beside him.

He jumped, realizing he had let his guard down _way_ too much for being outside. He turned, expecting Wakko or Runt or something, but instead was greeted with the sight of Dr. Scratchansniff as he made himself comfortable, or as close as he could get anyway, on the cold ground. 

“What’s up, Doc?” Yakko asked, forcing chipper into his tone. He smirked as Scratchansniff looked at him, bewildered. 

“I vas going to ask you the same,” he said, in that heavy accent Yakko wasn’t supposed to know came from Germany. “Vat is a kid like you doing out here at a time like this?”

“Fall?” Yakko asked. “Well, I’m already on the ground, so I suppose that the fall has already happened.”

“No, Yakko,” Scratchy said in a tone that immediately made Yakko’s hackles start to rise, “I meant this time.”

Yakko shook himself slightly, trying to play it off as readjusting to face Scratchy, in an attempt to stop his fur from rising. He knew Scratchy wasn’t a bad guy, but if the last few years had taught him anything, it was the fact that any adult seeing him too closely was dangerous.

“It’s just after sunset, Scratchy, no need to worry.” Yakko lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. When he met Scratchy’s eyes, however, he couldn’t stop himself from freezing.

“Yakko,” Scratchy said in that _awful_ voice, “it’s nearly dawn.”

“Whaaaaaat?” Yakko said, feigning fake shock. He glanced around, noting the silver sheen showing at the top of the mountain. “Welp,” he said, lowering out of the fetal position he had forgotten he was in, brushing himself off, “guess you caught me. I’m a regular old insomniac.” Yakko forced a laugh, but he knew it came off as genuine. He and his siblings were all very good at that. He only had to worry if they would notice. 

Scratchansniff knit his brows, and something in Yakko made him hesitate. 

“Yakko,” he said, yet again, but this time slower than before. “Is there something vrong?”

Yakko couldn’t help but laugh. It was hysterical, and uncontrolled, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Is something wrong?” he asked when he could, wiping the tear out of his eyes. “Where do you think we live, Scratchy?”

“I am aware of the situation in Acme Falls,” came Scratchy’s response. “I am also aware, however, that you and your siblings are the only orphans left in this dying town. And I am aware that you are the oldest, and how much you take care of the younger ones.” Scratchansniff leveled his gaze at Yakko. “I want to make sure that you are taking care of yourself as much as you are of your siblings.

Yakko felt his heart stop. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, and he jumped to his feet.

“Why do you care?” He winced slightly at how hostile his tone had been. Even though he was gifted with fangs and claws he made sure he and his sibs always filed them down, in one way or another. They had never learned how to use them. 

Scrachansniff frowned. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“In my experience, everyone has a reason,” Yakko said darkly.

Scrachansniff watched him for a second. He sighed. “Fine,” he admitted. “I care because the idea of children hurting upsets me.” He looked across the darkened town, that still had not yet started awakening. 

Yakko let out a “ha!” and they sat there for a while, watching the dark town.

“Did you know that I originally was a psychiatrist?” Scratchy said suddenly.

Yakko tilted his head. “Why do you make elixir, then?”

Scratchy cut his eyes towards Yakko, a small smile on his face. “I knew you were a smart one,” he said. “You didn’t even ask what a psychiatrist was.” Yakko rubbed his arms to hide the fluffing of his fur.

Scratchy sighed, looking back over the town. “I couldn’t find work,” he said eventually. “When no one has money, no one can pay. And it's when no one can pay that they need mental health care the most.”

Yakko thought over this for a moment, studying Scratchy. 

If he was king, he would make sure everyone was happy. He saw how trauma and mental illnesses were affecting the people in the orphanage, and even the town. He remembered that one girl whose parents who had died due to a mugging. She had seen it, and refused to eat. Dot had cried when she died. He didn’t want anyone to hurt like that.

He shook his head again. He couldn’t think like that. He could get stuck in a dream world if he let his mind wander.

He couldn’t let that happen again.

“So,” Scratchy asked, hesitantly. “What’s a smart kid like you thinking about out here at a time like this?”

Yakko narrowed his eyes. “I was thinking about the fact that Salazar took over Warnerstock and that now my last name is sooooo last decade,” he said, his tone so dry it was poisonous.

Scratchy raised an eyebrow. “Warner?” he said after a moment. He studied Yakko again. “I guess,” he said. “There are lots of people with that last name though,” he said, and Yakko felt himself relax. 

Scratchy froze, however. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Most of the Warner’s I’ve met have been…” he studied Yakko again. “Well, they’ve been royals.”

Yakko arched a brow. “You’ve talked to the rich before?”

Scratchy rolled his eyes. “Of course I have,” he said. “Where do you think I became a doctor?” Yakko had to give him that. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask one,” Yakko snapped.

SCratchy studied him. It was starting to get annoying. “I suppose not,” he said. “How about this one: do you remember your life before the orphanage?”

Yakko froze, cutting his eyes towards SCratchy. “Why?” he said.

“Because I think it's bothering you,” he answered simply. “And because I am unsure if you have ever told anyone. And your siblings are young enough that I fear they don’t remember much.”

Yakko sighed, curling up again. “I’ve tried to keep them from remembering,” he said bitterly. 

“So what happened to your parents wasn’t pretty, I assume.”

Yakko sent him a glare. “Are they ever?”

Scratchy shrugged. “I suppose not.”

Yakko sighed. “I want them to forget, because it's dangerous to remember. But I also don’t want them to forget about where we came from. But I also can’t tell them.”

“Why is it dangerous?” Scratchy asked. “Are you concerned about repressed memories?”

Yakko shook his head. “I loved my parents,” he said. He bit his lip. “I still do. They were great. They took care of us and loved us. They were smart and great and powerful and everything I want to be someday.” He paused, looking back up at the shining stars, finding the constellations to keep back the tears. “But I can’t tell anyone more than that. Including my siblings.”

Scratchy was quiet for a moment. “Why not?” he asked, his voice a whisper. 

Before Yakko could do anything to stop it, a tear slipped out of his eye. He wiped it away quickly, hoping Scratchy wouldn’t notice, but then another one came out, and then another. 

Yakko swiped at them furiously, trying to keep his fur dry. It was too cold to cry, and water was too rare to waste. After a few moments he noticed that he was gasping, and he heard the sound of sobs starting to come from his throat. He pressed his fists to his eyes, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his hands on his legs. He pulled into himself, trying his best to shove the emotion down and keep his voice quiet. He bit his glove, trying to use the sensation to distract him from the empty hole gaping in his chest.

He felt something warm wrap him up, and he felt an arm pull him close. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been, and he pushed into the comforting warmth even harder.

He hadn’t been held like this in a long time. And he cried into the warm shirt and the soft body, he couldn’t help but cry harder at how different it was. There was no fur to rub against his, no loving kiss to his forehead, no gentle scratching of sheathed claws against his ears, no gentle purring to soothe him. 

Sometimes, when one of his siblings caught him off guard and noticed he was sad, they would curl up in his lap, purring and snuggling to try to comfort him. Purring and being held were the two things that helped him calm down the most, but Wakko and Dot were too young and they were the only ones of their species left. 

He feared he would never get back what he wanted most. 

After what felt like forever, the sobs subsided. He became aware of how Scratchy’s body was bundled around his, even though their height difference kept him from fully covering Yakko. He pulled back, still sniffing. He spotting the first rays of the sun starting to rise above the mountain, but he knew that only those farther away from town--the farmers and such--would be awake at this time. He cocked an ear, listening for his sibs. He picked up the sound of Dot snoring, and he relaxed.

“Sorry,” he said, fully pulling away. His cheeks heated with embarrassment. 

“It is fine, Yakko,” Scratchy said with a kind smile. “You needed it. I cannot fault you for that. Everyone needs to relieve the pressure sometimes.” He glanced towards where Wakko and Dot were sleeping. “I think that you are under a lot of pressure, and you are unwilling to risk your siblings' health and share with them.”

Yakko looked away. “I’m risking more than that,” he said quietly. “I risk their lives.”

Scratchy watched him for a second. “Yakko,” he said slowly. “I can keep a secret. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Yakko looked away, looking out towards the sleepy town. The train tracks were covered in snow from disuse. A few lights had turned on. The birds were beginning to chirp. 

“What would you say…” he trailed off, biting his lip. He looked back to Scratchansniff, seeing nothing but an open and honest desire to help. Maybe it was safe. Maybe it was okay. Maybe he didn’t have to be so alone anymore. He swallowed, feeling like he was placing the biggest bet of his life.

“What would you say if I told you that I used to be the crown prince of Warnerstock?” He blurt the words out before he could stop himself. “And what if Wakko and Dot used to be the prince and princess?”

He watched Scratchansniff’s face. His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened. A small hint of disbelief shone in the back of his eyes, but it was quickly blotted out. Scratchansniff got his face under control before he spoke in that level voice.

“I would say that I am concerned about why you three are now orphans,” he said levelly. “I know that the country entered a great upset when King William died. And I know that King Salazar took over during that time of unrest.” He looked at Yakko, his eyes darkening. “And I can imagine what a king such as him would do to three children who were the only heirs to the throne.”

Yakko nodded, feeling his throat tighten. The terror had only increased, not eased. Someone knew now. Someone knew their secret and could tell.

Scratchansniff put his hand on Yakko’s shoulder, cutting off Yakko’s swirling thoughts. 

“I won’t tell,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’ll keep your secret.”

Yakko felt tears begin to slip out of his eyes. “It was dangerous and stupid to tell you that,” he said, fighting against the lump in his throat. 

“And I thank you for telling me anyway.” Scratchansniff smiled. “I won’t tell. I’ll help you in any way I can. Just, please, confide in me when you feel overwhelmed.” He looked back out over the town. “Times are tough. I can’t promise you three food, or water, or shelter. I can’t promise anything physical like that.” He looked back to Yakko. “But I want to help. So let me help with this.” His smile grew wider. “Please. It is the request of an old man.”

Yakko smiled back, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said. He stood, stretching. His bones creaked, and he shook his fur to try to fluff it up against the cold. He looked back into the orphanage. 

“We’re moving to the water tower,” he said. “I think it’ll be warmer there.”

Scratchansniff stood, nodding. “I think that is a great idea. Let me and Hello Nurse know if you need any help moving.”

Yakko laughed. “We don’t have much,” he said. He turned to Scratchansniff, smiling. “But thank you.”

He stuck out his hand. Scratchansniff took it.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Yakko said, shaking Scrathansniff’s arm hard. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to sleep. I have two siblings I have to take care of.”

Scratchansniff laughed. “I can watch them, if you want.”

“You wouldn’t want to,” Yakko said. “You couldn’t handle them.”

“And you can?” Scratchansniff raised an eyebrow. 

Yakko broke out his most mischievous grin, feeling a sense of normality coming back to him. Maybe he _would_ take Ol’ Scratchy up on his offer.

“Who do you think taught them?”


End file.
